Scaramouche nervously walked the school hallway, head down, hoping to avoid attention. He was late for class, having been delayed by his mother. He adjusted his glasses, blushing slightly.

As he walked, his thoughts turned to you. He admired you greatly.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him into the janitor’s closet. He dropped his backpack and was pushed against the wall.

“W-what the!?” He yelped, surprised. He saw you and his heart pounded, his face flushed.